


to mend a wound

by NatureGirl202



Series: all these sparks shall light a fire [kestrelan legacy] [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Miraluka, been sitting in my wips forever tbh, first swtor fic eep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 08:57:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16171826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatureGirl202/pseuds/NatureGirl202
Summary: //fictober18 prompt: "can you feel this?"some healing after nathema.





	to mend a wound

He hisses sharply as the ship jostles from who-knows-what, the pain in his gut sharpening for a moment. He’s exhausted, the injury and days spent undercover taking their toll. It’s not new to him: it’s a familiar sensation to anyone who’s lived the life of a spy for long enough. It’s different this time, though, the weight of the past few months weighing down on him more than any other he’s experienced. He feels like he should be sinking into the stiff bed of the med bay.

His attention shifts and his head turns when he hears the softest of footsteps, totally unnoticeable were he not so attuned to her. His vision is blurry due to his exhaustion, but he can see the outline of her figure standing in the doorway. She remains there for a moment, before approaching him. He feels the bed shift slightly as she sits on the side of it, her thigh brushing his hip. He watches, fighting the overwhelming urge to close his eyes. He’d spent too long without seeing her, without the presence he’d unknowingly come to rely so heavily on, and he doesn’t want to waste a second of it now.

Her hands move, hovering over his injury and, through the fog of exhaustion, he figures out what she’s about to do. “No-” The word comes out slurred and with not nearly as much force as he wants.

“Ssh” she soothes, voice soft and quiet and perpetually calm in that way it always is. He wants to argue further, but finds he can’t, his body not allowing it. A warmth floods him a moment later and a glow begins to emanate from her body. His vision clears, some of his exhaustion leaves, and the pain in his side fades to a dull ache. He blinks, taking in the now clear sight of her as the glow dissipates a moment later. Her hood is down, revealing her usual braid in a messy state. Some strands are loose while others are free entirely. He knows the look, has seen her wear it after every hard battle.

Her hands leave him and go to her lap, a grimace flashing across her face and her shoulders sagging briefly as the force healing takes its toll, but it’s gone in but an instant. He sighs, frustrated at her, but mostly frustrated at himself.

“You didn’t have to do that” he says, though he knows it’s pointless. He remembers the aftermath of several battles: her going from wounded soldier to wounded soldier, healing as many as she could before she reached the point of near collapse. It’d driven him and Lana crazy, still does, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that her selflessness was one of the reasons he’d fallen in love with her.

“We do a lot of things we don’t have to.” He releases a breath, catching the meaning behind her words. He licks his dry lips, but finds no words coming to them. He’d already explained, given all his reasoning. He also knows that no amount of reasoning can make up for the pain he’s caused her.

But then the corners of her lips are tilting up, giving the softest of smiles. “Like your hair, for instance.”

He chuckles, goes to shift on the bed but decides against it as the movement irritates his sore midsection. She must catch his expression or even sense his pain, as a frown settles onto her face. Her hands are suddenly on the edge of his shirt, light, applying barely any pressure, but his breath catches anyways.

“Let’s look” she says softly, before slowly peeling his shirt up. She pays no mind to the drying blood soaked into his shirt and covering his abdomen. Her hands—gloveless, he suddenly realizes—brush over his abdomen. They’re cool, like he remembers. Those hands of hers have never seemed to collect any warmth. He remembers Yavin 4: clasping her hands between his, giving them a rub and blowing a breath in an attempt to warm them, but the only things that had seemed to warm had been her cheeks, if her incredibly endearing blush had been anything to go by.

He lets out a breath, the coolness of her fingers not only a relief against his sore muscles, but a touch he’d missed like crazy since he left. Her right hand, then, moves to the raw skin and of his mostly healed wound and he stiffens as she applies a small amount of pressure.

“Can you feel this?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it still pierces through the quiet that had settled for those few moments.

He nods, clears his throat. “Yeah.”

The pressure of her hand lightens, but it still remains. “Good.” They lapse into silence once more and his eyes don’t stray from her face. It’s tilted slightly away from him, but he can sense her focus like he would a gaze. The loose strands of hair catch his attention and it’s natural, instinctive, for him to want to reach out and tuck it away behind her ear. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, though, until her left hand catches his wrist that’s risen in the air. It’s a light grasp, easily broken should he attempt to, but it stops him dead in his tracks. Guilt stabs at his gut, because he should’ve known better than to assume she’d welcome his touch. It’d been months, and while he’d done his best to keep track of how she and the Alliance were doing, she could’ve moved on for all he knew.

His hand settles back down on the cot and she pulls his shirt back down. “We’ll get you cleaned up on Odessen.” She tilts her head, offers that soft smile, and he feels the brush of her fingers against the back of his hand. “Get some rest, Theron.”

It could be his imagination, or his fatigue, but he swears he hears a promise there, in the way she says his name.

**Author's Note:**

> also on [tumblr](http://bxtgrl.tumblr.com/post/178679331052/to-mend-a-wound). <3


End file.
